The Empty Castle
by malyssab
Summary: Sam and Dean based in Victorian Era England get an opportunity to hunt Count Dracula by going to Transylvania as London property solicitors.
1. Getting Out of London

Sam burrowed his fists in the pockets of his blazer in an attempt to hide them from the frigid wind of London. He kept his head down so as to meet nobody's eyes, for he knew what the look on their face would be if he did. He was walking down Hornditch, a road on which the wealthiest of men, and the luckiest of women, resided. Every man whom he passed had a suit woven with wealth, a beautiful wife hanging on his arm, and a wicked smile plastered on his face. All this while Sam wore a centuries old blazer with dirt and blood stained in the oddest of places, and under it a frayed plaid shirt with holes ranging from the size of a pen's tip to a thumb. To them, he looked like a beggar who just ransacked a poor, old and grumpy scot's house.

The brothers usually lived in shacks, or dilapidated houses if they were lucky, for that was all they could afford. Their job didn't exactly pay well. In fact, it barely payed at all. They made all of their money either from privately funded hunts from families without the money to move out of their haunted house, or from stealing from the houses in which the monster they just hunted resided (these were usually vampires, werewolves or shape shifters) and selling the loot. The last was of a werewolf who hunted prostitutes. The brothers were thrown off at first, because the killer was a psychopath who killed even in his human carnation, so killing schedule was not on a monthly basis. But the brothers were brilliant, and quickly figured everything out.

They terminated the beast three days before, and had been living in his lovely abode since then. By a stroke of luck, the lycanthrope was extremely wealthy and had a kingdom for a house. Or so it seemed to the brothers who hadn't slept on an actual bed in what seemed like years. The servants had all left, rather quickly I might add, once they figured out the satanic doings of their employer, so they had the house all to themselves. The neighbors were also exceptionally superstitious, and had become weary at even the sight of this house, which only added to the looks Sam was getting as he returned to his temporary castle.

Sam walked into the house and heaved a sigh of relief. From the isolated corner of the far room came, "Hiya Sammy, how was town?" Sam looked up to find his brother huddled in darkness, save the light coming from the single lamp that was illuminating him, reading what looked like H.G. Wells' The Time Machine. "Ah," said Sam, "I see you finally dove into the Time Machine. Took you long enough, It's been a top seller for over a year now."

"Better late than never," Dean replied, in a mocking tone that resembled their father's from the days when he would return at ungodly hours, to meet two exhausted and half-asleep boys who had stayed up all night waiting for their belated father. At this Sam gave a small smile as childhood memories made their way back to his thoughts. In response, Dean perked up with a hint of excitement as he said, "Oh, and while you were out we got a telegram from Bobby. He wants us to do a job in Transylvania. I know it's not our usual gig, but it would be nice to get away from England. London in particular. Have you heard how everyone talks here? No one can ever say a simple sentence, it has to be complex and have a billion metaphors jammed in to every point they make. And they stand like they have a hand up their ass. Friggen puppets is what they are."

Sam eyed him comically and said, "I don't know Dean, they sound pretty normal to me."

"Yeah well I didn't spend 3 years at Cambridge, now did I," He replied sarcastically. "Sorry I'm not as prim and proper as you."

At this Sam chuckled and poured some whiskey for the both of them, not bothering to ask his brother because he knew the answer would be yes. After a minute of sitting in silence, drinking the whiskey, Sam looked up and said, "So what's this case you were talking about? In Transylvania?"

"Ah yes," replied Dean, returning his nearly empty glass to the silver-lined mahogany table. "Apparently there's a guy who goes by Count Dracula. There are enough urban legends about him to take you to the moon, but they all tend to point to the same direction. Apparently he lives in an abandoned castle with three girls that he turned. He's never been seen outside his house, and he never allows anyone past his front door. Also people have said that they always hear wolves howling at night around his house."

"What are we thinking, vampires?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, and like I said, he never lets anyone in, so it's been hard for hunters over the years to kill 'im. All we know is that he sleeps during the day in a coffin somewhere around his house. Also, during the night he travels in the form of a bat –"

"- So long story short," Sam interjected, "it's pretty much impossible to find him, much less kill him."

"Exactly, but apparently he wants to buy some property in London. He sent for a solicitor to stay with him for a while, and Bobby intercepted it. He says he can get us on the job and that we're the best for it. What do ya say?"

Sam smirked and said, "I'm in."


	2. The Chase Begins

They ascended the frigid mountain in their simple cart drawn by their cherished horse. She was a sleek, deep black, matching an empty night's reflection on a still pond. Dean sat at the reigns, as always, and watched the ancient, yet magnificent, creature effortlessly carry them forward. Her hooves were beaten and dirty from their years of use, her eyes greyed and matured from what they had seen. Yes, she was getting old, but her muscles bulged and contracted seamlessly, like an ageless machine. She always seemed too unfettered for a name, like a title would tether her down, but Dean often adoringly referred to her as simply, Baby.

A wolf's howl punctured the night, and seemed to resonate through the still trees. At this, the horse whinnied and reared its legs, causing Dean to reaffirm his grip. "Whoa, Baby," Dean called out to calm his horse and steady himself. They continued on up the mountain, and had become within sight of the great castle. They closer they inched towards it, the louder the howls became, until the boys' ears were flooded with the horrid sound. "COVER YOUR EARS, SAMMY!" Dean shouted to his brother, which was met by Sam, ears already covered, replying with, "WHAT?" which was in turn met by Dean's shouting, "WHAT?" Following this, the boys remained silent for a minute looking at each other in confusion, until Sam grinned and Dean burst out laughing.

They finally arrived at the house, which was met a very tall, pale, odd looking man whom the brothers took to be their perp. The carriage came to a stop, as did all of the howling, which left a foreign sensation of nothingness echoing in the brothers' ears. "Welcome," called out the Count.

"Hey, I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam."

"Ah yes. Please, do come in. I have a beautiful fire started that should warm up your frozen fingers," said the Count.

"Is this guy… thawing us out?" Dean whispered.

"Looks like," Sam replied with a small, determined nod. "Let's go."

The boys scanned the house as the Count was showing them to their rooms, and were awestruck at the pure and ancient massiveness of it. They stopped in front of Sam and Dean's adjacent rooms, and the count turned around and said to them, "Now, there are some rooms that are locked, and I would very much appreciate it if you would refrain from trying to enter them." At this, Sam and Dean smiled politely, and replied with, "Of course," but once the Count's back was to them, they exchanged sardonic looks that said, "Well there's a lead."

They both walked into their respective rooms, and about five minutes later, Dean knocked the shared wall and met Sam out in the hallway.

"Okay," Sam started, "It's about 8 o'clock. We should meet back out here when the moon hits its apex, and see what the Count's up to. Just remember that he's nocturnal, so we must tread lightly"

"Good," replied Dean, "I need my 4 hours."

The boys were up and scanning the house, and hadn't found any traces of the Count. More concerning, though, was the lack of mirrors. Dean looked at Sam and said, "Hey Sammy, what's that thing with vamps and mirrors again?"

"It's believed that mirrors can capture and reflect the human soul. Seeing that vampires have no soul, they don't have any reflection. No reflection, no real need to waste your money on a mirror." After this, they continued in silence through the bare halls with clenched fists and ready feet until they reached Dracula's room, and stopped.

"Jackpot," whispered Dean, reaching for the door handle. At this, Sam quickly grabbed his wrist to prevent him from opening the door. He then put on finger to his lips and pointed to the door next to the Count's. Dean instantly knew his exact plan and nodded in accordance.

"Looks like another guest room," Dean whispered. He tried the door knob, found that it was open, and walked in. It was a normal room that looked much like their own, except it had a terrace overlooking the mountain. "Man," whined Dean standing by the bed, "I want a window. Why can't our room have a window?" Sam ignored his brother's moans and walked over to the large window, looking out into the night. After a few moments, Sam whispered, "Holy… Dean, come over here!" Dean sprinted to the other side of the room with the grace of a gazelle and the speed of a racing horse, looked over the edge with child-like curiosity, and whispered, "Son of a bitch…" They both were glued to the floor, their bodies still as statues as the watched the Count climb down the side of the wall like a giant, man-sized lizard.

They stood there, stupefied as Dean said, "Dude, what the hell. Have you ever seen a vamp do that?"

"No," he replied, "but I've never played house guest with one either."

They walked back from the window and fell back onto the giant bed with a sigh. They sat silent, thinking, their brows tugged and their heads propped up on their hands. Then, three girls climbed in through the window with blood red lips deeply contrasted by pale white faces. "Ooh, what do we have here?" asked the first one. "We're going to have some fun tonight," said the second one. The third one walked seductively up to Dean and whispered, "Hey baby. You up for a good time?" Dean tried to stand up, but his knees turned to dust as he stared into the girl's piercing red eyes. The left side of his face tugged upward into a sinister smile as he replied, "Oh yeah."

"Dean, snap out of it! She's using her compulsion!" Sam cried. At this, one of the two remaining girls walked up to him, hips swinging like a pendulum and smile hinting trouble, and whispered, "Oh come on, don't tell me you don't want to have some fun. Come on." Sam kept his eyes glued shut, knowing that the majority of their compulsive powers comes from eye contact, but the girl's cold lips dancing on his ear and long fingers running across his collar bone made him quiver as he started to lose his will power. With one final burst of determination, he lunged forward and sunk his fist into her surprisingly hard stomach, sending her back a step, as well as an explosion of pain up his arm. Ignoring this, he then lunged at the one taking over Dean and sank his fist into her face, guaranteeing broken bones in both the woman and Sam. This stunned her enough for him to grab Dean and run. Dean snapped out of it, and they both took off down the halls back to their rooms.

They had finally arrived at their rooms with heaving chests and loud breaths, and the brothers stood in front of their respective rooms looking at each other as if saying, "Could this house be _any_ bigger?" They caught their breaths quickly, as they entered their rooms to get the supplies. Sam stealthily unpacked the thinly minced garlic and sprinkled it across the lining of the doors, as Dean said, "Good luck trying to get passed this, Count Chompula."

"Yeah," Sam continued, "And company," referring to their recent encounter. They then hung crucifixes across their necks and shoved some of the extra garlic in their pockets in the need for a quick getaway. "Okay," started Sam, "So we should retire for the night, seeing that Dracula and the others are stronger when the moon is high. Let us rest, and begin our endeavors when the sun rises."

"Yeah, good plan Mr. Pretentious," Dean replied with a roll of his eyes, though he turned his face to the shadows to conceal his proud, beaming smile at his genius little brother.


	3. The Hunt

**Author's Note: Just thought I should remind you guys that this is based off of Bram Stoker's version of vampire lure, not Supernatural's. Also, it gets ten times better if you read Sam's dialogue with a posh-ish tone (picked up from his three years at Cambridge) and Dean's in a cockney kind of accent. Also, I haven't read Dracula in a while, so if I got something wrong, just pretend that that's what happened in the book.**

The brothers rose at dawn and, seeing that the Count was nowhere to be seen, started investigating. Hours passed as Sam and Dean picked every lock and investigated every dust-filled, spider-infested, disregarded room, as well as rooms such as the strangely empty kitchen and the Count's quarters. Besides never ending sneezes (there were so many dust bunnies, the Count could open a zoo) and piles of gold, (the gold was in the Count's room. By the look of his room, he was an odd man indeed) the brothers found nothing of importance. They had stopped for lunch, and later dinner as their day had gone from uneventful to mind-numbingly boring. That is, until they entered a strange hallway.

It wasn't locked or guarded in any way, and years of neglect had left the walls grimy and ravaged by cobwebs. By now, they had lost almost all motivation and were bored enough to drop dead. They had resolved to games such as Eye Spy (this ended when every question started being: I spy something old and gross, with the reply of: everything?) and the Alphabet Game, but all of the words had to be either a weapon against monsters or a name of an actual monster (they had played this game frequently as children, because it was one of the only games their father had allowed them to play during the copious hours spent in the back of the carriage as they travelled across England looking for trouble) and finally they played Would You Rather, until they fell into silence.

When they came up on the hallway, their shoulders fell simultaneously and they played rock- paper-scissors for who had to go in first to break all the spider webs. As usual, Dean lost, and after receiving a smug smile from his brother, he continued in. After walking a few meters Dean stopped and turned to Sam saying, "Dude, I haven't even caught one web yet. Looks like this abandoned hallway isn't so abandoned after all."

The hallway finally ended in a doorway leading to a large area of grass. They came upon a coffin in the ground and, with weapons firmly held in hand, opened it with breaths held. There lay the Count, face ghastly pale as ever. "Okay, Sammy, let's do this," Dean said unfazed. Sam had a whole onion in one hand, a machete in the other as Dean reared his wooden stake. Just as he was about to plunge it into the foul thing's chest, the Count's eyes flew open as his hand flew up to grab Dean's neck.

Dean tried to escape by punching Dracula in the stomach, and when that had failed (and left him with throbbing knuckles) he tried to pry Dracula's fingers from his neck to no avail. The cross that hung from his neck seemed to do nothing at stopping Dracula, except annoy him further. Dean knew vampires were strong, but this was a whole new level, which meant that this guy was _seriously_ old. The Count then proceeded to throw Dean to the ground with enough force to leave him lying there, to stunned, hurt, and out of breath to move. The Count turned around to meet an infuriated Sam, running at him with all of his force. He began to draw out his stake from the inside of his coat, but the Count grabbed his arm with the strength of a hundred bulls, and stole the wood, breaking it in half and throwing it farther than humanly possible.

By now Dean had gotten back on his feet, his neck bruised and his knees weak, but still ready to fight. He met Sam's eyes for a glimmer of a second, and they both knew what they had to do.

Sam smirked and said, "You wish to fight? I'll show you a fight." Placing the onion back in his pocket, he threw his hardest punch and met Dracula's jaw with enough force to unbalance him, if only in the slightest bit. The strength Sam was able to muster up seemed to surprise the Count, for when he stood upright once again he said, "You fight like a warrior, but even the mightiest of warriors have fallen by my hand."

Sam answered with a smirked, "We'll see," as he swiftly removed the onion from his pocket and thrust it in Dracula's mouth while quickly turning him around to be met by Dean's wooden stake. This caused him to falter, and lose his footing. Sam then gripped his machete tight, and decapitated the once mighty and powerful, Count Dracula.

The monster's white skin turned to ash and fell slowly to the ground as the air momentarily suspended the tiny particles, outlining the figure that they used to be. The brothers watched, hands in pockets, as the once mighty Dracula had become another one of their victims. Once it had settled, the Dean looked at Sam and said, "Man, I could really go for some fish and chips, eh?"

"Sounds good to me, I'm starving," Sam replied. And with that, the brothers left in silence, with a pile of dust to their backs and satisfied grins on their faces.


End file.
